


A Good Thing

by Teh_Poet



Series: TehKita's Kinklets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But it goes well, John walks in on something unexpected, Kitty play, M/M, Milk, Pet Play, kink positive sherlockians, petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teh_Poet/pseuds/Teh_Poet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been for a case. It always starts that way, doesn’t it? Sherlock was dangling at the end of a frayed nerve, completely unable to see, the answer staring at him from the other end of the mystery and so in a fit of nervous desperation he did something most sane men would nervously giggle at while backing away…</p>
<p>John Watson has never accurately been called a sane man, however.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The next in kitabrie's new kink celebration series! This month's kink: Pet Play ^o^/</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Thing

It had been for a case. It always starts that way, doesn’t it? Sherlock was dangling at the end of a frayed nerve, completely unable to see _I can’t see_ the answer staring at him from the other end of the mystery and so in a fit of nervous desperation he did something most sane men would nervously giggle at while backing away…

 

John Watson has never accurately been called a sane man, however.

 

So when the good doctor came home one afternoon to see the bit-not-good detective on all fours _why is he naked_ with a diminutive collar _is that a bell??_ around his throat--

 

John cleared his throat.

 

Sherlock tinkled and jingled as his head snapped around, eyes wide as saucers _I wonder if we have any milk, John mused_ at the shock of being caught out.

 

“Sherlock…”

 

Sherlock only stared back.

 

“Why are you… mm.” John found he couldn’t locate his words very well what with the sight before him. It wasn’t the sight itself -he’d learned to adjust, over the years, to stumbling upon the strange and unworldly in his own sitting room- rather it was the reaction he’d had to the sight that gave him pause. He’d long since abandoned any compunctions about just going with whatever life threw his way, and so when he felt his trousers tightening at the crouch of expansive pale skin before him he barely had to mull over the ‘well fuck me’ before turning to the kitchen.

 

“John, I-“

 

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock,” John spoke over Sherlock’s frantic attempt to talk his way out of whatever this was, “I should have left some food out for you while I was gone. I bet you’re absolutely starving, poor kitty…” He barely hesitated over the last word. It was a tiny hedge of a guess, but context told him he was probably correct. The silence that echoed back to him from the other room was enough of a confirmation for him to feel confident pulling out the milk that they did indeed have and filling a shallow bowl. “Ordinarily we eat in the kitchen, but I think under the circumstances…” John took the bowl into the sitting room, and lay it before the thoroughly perplexed Sherlock. “Now eat up, I’m sure you’re hungry.” John knelt down beside Sherlock, dropping a hand to finger through his unruly curls while he waited.

 

Sherlock stared at him for a moment, belatedly letting his eyelids droop as John pet his head and scratched at his scalp. John noticed the gradually widening pupils before the lids dropped closed for a moment, fluttering at the sudden and unexpected physical intimacy between them. Slowly, almost suspiciously, Sherlock leaned down and put his mouth to the bowl of milk. He made a small mess, experimenting with the best way of drinking his meal. Lapping seemed to be out, human tongues weren’t as flexible as cat tongues, but small sips with a puckered pout was effective at sucking the milk in _not to mention the mental image it conjures of those lips put to a different task_.

 

John continued petting Sherlock as he drank, moving to sweep his hand over shoulder and down spine, curving around the swell of exposed arse. Sherlock hummed contentedly, body language relaxed now that it was apparent John was not going to take the piss or otherwise react poorly. Granted this was not an activity either men had intended when Sherlock put on that bell, but somehow, through mutual unspoken agreement, they both allowed this space to form around the two of them that seemed… natural.

 

When Sherlock was finished, he looked up at John and tensed –almost as though he’d forgotten John were even there, that they were doing this _whatever this is_ \- but John simply continued petting, concentrated on the sensitive skin behind his ears. “There, I bet that’s better, hmm? Good kitty…” Sherlock took the cue, stretched out beside the bowl, and breathed a deep _relaxing?_ breath, closing his eyes. John stayed with him, moving the dish out of their way. The good little kitty relaxed further under John’s touch, rolling onto his back, arms stretched over his head and legs splayed apart. John pet him just as he would a real cat- gentle fingertips over the ridges of his brows and cheekbones, soft brushes of the skin under the collar, and fluid strokes down the long lean torso.

 

John all but ignored the by-now quite prominent erection his pet sported. He said nothing, so Sherlock said nothing, but Sherlock was making contented little hums and mews deep in his chest. They appeared entirely unfeigned and unconscious- were he a real cat they would most assuredly be purrs. Spurred on by the vocal encouragement, and riding a funny line between dream and reality, John did nothing to avoid touching Sherlock’s prick, stroking it with the flat of his hand as he did the rest of his belly. Down from shoulder, over pectorals _and nipples_ and abdomen _and between legs to heavy balls_ and back up along the same path- Sherlock’s soft hums and mews morphed into liquid languorous moans of contentment.

 

John made no attempt to change the pressure of his touches for the different parts of Sherlock’s body, made no special focus on anywhere in particular, and Sherlock for his part did not try to direct John’s attentions. This was an unacknowledged exercise in simply being together, existing through touch and in this carved out space made for just the two of them. Neither could tell you when the atmosphere became so charged, but soon Sherlock twitched on a sudden breath, prick thickening subtly, and with one of John’s hands in his hair and another sweeping up from his groin over his bellybutton, he let out one plaintive cry and splashed his belly- his full body orgasm lasted a few strong pulses and John soothed him through the entire thing, smiling fondly down at his pet _and when did Sherlock become my pet, hm?_ until finally Sherlock stilled, melting into the floor with a final contented hum of pleasure.

 

It took only a moment before Sherlock tensed, and his eyes flew open to stare up at John in a slowly encroaching panic. John beat him to the punch, somehow still floating on his high and smiled down at the man on his back. “My but what a mess you’ve made, we’ll have to have a bath now.” Sherlock blinked up at him, shock tinged with confusion bleeding over the lassitude that had come with the unexpected orgasm. “I know, kitties don’t like water, but I think you’ll just have to make an exception if you’re going to keep making messes like this…” A surprised sound tore itself from Sherlock’s throat and John chuckled at the look on Sherlock’s face before standing and making his way for the downstairs loo.

 

He started the tap, testing the water for temperature before plugging the drain and pulling at the buttons on his shirt. Somehow he hadn’t questioned that Sherlock would follow, everything so far had felt utterly and perplexingly normal _normal, fancy that_ since he’d walked through the door and found his flat mate doing god knows what with that cat collar… The soft tinkling of the bell pulled John from his musings and he turned to find Sherlock hiding behind the doorjamb, looking in at him suspiciously but there all the same. ‘This will definitely be a good thing,’ thought John, eyes sparkling in anticipation- “Well come on, I know kitties don’t usually go in for obedience, but if you be a good sport and let me clean you up I might find a treat for you…” Sherlock blinked at him, still skittish and a bit uncertain, but he did what John had hoped and walked fully into the room, stopping just short to stare down at John in cautious wonder. _Oh yes, definitely a good thing._

**Author's Note:**

> visit our tumblr for more content concerning this kink (and others ^o^/)  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/whatareweidonteven


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